No Trace
by JWAB
Summary: When Jeremy finally came out of the burning house, Jenna was there to meet him. An epitaph in the wake of 4x15, "Stand By Me."


_Sometimes you have to write things just to recover. Many thanks to **CreepingMuse** for a devastating prompt, and please be sure to go read her heartbreatking story **Brick by Brick**, the sister story to this one, which tells the demise of the original Salvatore home. Bring kleenex.  
_

* * *

It wasn't until the flames began to lick away the outer walls that he finally came out of the house.

When he was still alive he glimpsed me sometimes, although I haven't been great at sticking around long enough to talk. No focus maybe. Not enough ghosty guts. But every once in a while I could hold out and wait for him to see my reflection in a window before he locked the door at night. So after he died, when he sat in his room watching Elena hold his hand and deny the undeniable truth, even as completely glazed over as he was, I thought he would know I was nearby. When she left and he sat staring at his own greying face, I was there, standing in the doorway, waiting for him to be ready for me. When Damon brought his body downstairs and he followed behind him like a funeral procession, I marched along in step with them. But he didn't register me there. Maybe he thought that his ring would work and that he was just seeing a ghost, like he had all those times before.

When Stefan walked through the door with Jeremy in his arms… I don't exactly know how it works over here. Sometimes I'm in our old house, my bedroom where I grew up, although other people live there now. It's creepy to watch them move through spaces that had once only ever been mine, so I never stay long. Sometimes I visit Ric's loft, but I haven't found him there. Most of the time, if I'm anywhere, I'm at the Gilbert house. Jeremy and Elena need me, so it draws me – drew me. And that's where I was, listening to Caroline prattle on to herself about seeing Tyler again and how burn marks are a bitch to clean. Won't have to worry about that anymore. And then Stefan carried Jeremy in.

They couldn't hear me howling, but my failure to protect these two kids - Christ, they're just kids - echoed in thick, raspy wails through that lifeless house while Elena crossed Jeremy's arms over his chest and Stefan let the water run. And it wasn't my finest moment but I have to admit that when Bonnie sat them down at the table with a plan to bring us back, there was a little flicker of hope. Nothing that couldn't be immediately snuffed out. I may be dead, but I still know right from wrong.

Not to be selfish, I mean, Jeremy was all Elena had, but over here, the two of them were all _I _had. The only ones whose thoughts ever brought me back. Jeremy died and for a few hours it was just Elena left. And then she flipped that switch. I felt the loss of her like a stab wound. My last, only tether, gone.

The flames came soon after and I couldn't bear to watch the pictures curl, the last proof of my sister's life, my life, Jeremy's life. I sat on the porch swing and wished Stefan could see me when he turned around. Maybe he could.

I pulled myself together. I don't think I'll be back again.

The fire broke through the outer wall and the heat inside was intense – not that I could feel it, but it distorted the sight of everything around it. Everything but Jeremy, who finally came out and faced me on that porch.

"Jenna," he began, his voice breaking.

"Hey, kiddo," I said, patting the seat beside me.

"I died."

"You did."

His eyes misted with age and wisdom. "I didn't actually think I would. This whole time, with everything that happened to us, I felt invincible."

"No one is. Not really."

"You should have seen me. I was badass."

"I did see you."

His face fell and he choked back a sob, then he sat down beside me and for the first time since he was four years old he threaded his fingers between mine and let his head rest on my shoulder. We swung back and forth as the flames began to claim the second floor. "What happens now?" he asked me.

"I don't know. Hang around. Spook people."

"Go trick or treating."

"That's my boy."

He let out a long, slow breath and it sounded like it was made of equal parts relief and regret. Like everything over here. "Who's going to take care of Elena now?" he asked.

"Oh, as if you made her sandwiches and washed her sheets?"

"Please. As if _you_ did?"

"Yeah, okay, fair enough." I twisted to kiss his hair, and as much as I hated myself for being dead when he needed me, it felt good to have him here with me, talking with me, for as long as it would last. "Elena's going to take care of herself, and you can watch or not. Up to you."

"Of course I'll watch over her. I'll be right by her side."

"Don't be so sure," I sighed into the smoky air. "It's hard. You can't help. Things happen you can't prevent. She'll make horrible mistakes and even when you yell at her at the top of your lungs, she won't hear you."

"Horrible mistakes like burning the house down?" Something crashed inside and flames roared in response. The porch wouldn't stick around much longer.

"Worse, probably." I squeezed his hand and stood up. "Come on, let's get out of here."

He stood up slowly and we watched the house burn a little longer. "It'll be gone soon," he said, incredulous. When you first die, everything seems kind of impossible. "All of it'll be gone."

"No trace of us." I led him down the stairs. "Now come help me find Ric."


End file.
